Wet

The story begins with a knock at the door and a man's life changed forever

Submitted:Apr 28, 2013
Reads: 510
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There was a knock on my
door. My visitor was a stranger, who was wet from head to
toe.

"My car broke down," he
said.

"Can I please use your
telephone to call my mechanic?"

Out of pity, I allowed him
into my house. The moment my door was closed, he grabbed me. He
pinned me down on the floor. Fear danced in my bones. I wanted to
shout. But he covered my mouth.

"Don't shout," the stranger
said.

"Don't be afraid. I will
not kill you. Believe me, you will enjoy every moment of it.
Nobody will want you the way I want you."

He undressed me, violently.
He kissed me, passionately. He fucked me, vigorously. It was lust
at the highest degree. And he was right…I enjoyed every moment of
it.

When we finished making
love, he wore his clothes and left. He didn't say anything. He
didn't use my telephone. His car was not broken down. I really
believed that would be the last time I would see
him.

But I was wrong. The
following night, he was at my door step, again. It was not
raining and he was not wet.

"My car broke down," he
said.

"Can I please use your
telephone to call my mechanic?"

This time around, I allowed
him in my house, not out of pity. I wanted him inside me…. I
wanted him to make me feel wanted.

******

Every night, we would have
the similar routine. He would be at my doorstep, asking to use my
phone to call the mechanic for his broken down car. We would end
up making love.

The moment we finished
making love, he would leave. There were no conversations between
us. I had tried asking him questions but he never answered
them.

Three years later, one
night, the knocking on my door stopped. He disappeared from my
life. I was totally miserable. Slowly, I realized that my
relationship with him was not based on lust. I tried to look for
him. But I do not where to begin my search. I know nothing of
him. I don't even know his name.

I told my close friends
about him. They had a hard time believing my story. They believed
he was a figment of my imagination.

******

Two years later, I saw him,
again. He was in the news. He was a lawyer who was slowly
building a career in politics. The prime minister had given him
some ministerial post. Now, I could guess his reasons to stop
seeing me….his reasons to forget me. Most people will rather have
this country burn to ashes than have a minister who is a gay,
running this country.

*****

His political career did
not have a smooth ride. He and the prime minister did not see eye
to eye on many issues. He had bravely opposed with some of the
decisions that the prime minister had taken. The media had a
field day covering their hostile relationship. Out of anger, the
prime minister sacked him.

He became the first
minister in this country to be sacked. His wife was furious. She
left him. She had a dream to be first lady of this country. Her
dreams had been shattered. And she would not forgive
him.

******

Loneliness can be a
terrifying experience. All his friends and families kept their
distance from him. He desperately wanted some companion. He was
at my door steps, again. He was wet from head to
toe.

"My car broke down," he
said.

"Can I please use your
telephone to call my mechanic?"

I allowed him inside my
house. He was crying. I took out his wet clothes. I hugged him.
I planted kisses all over his faces.

"Stay here tonight," I
said.

"Nobody will want you the
way I want you."

That was the first night he
didn't disappear after we made love.

******

He likes spending time with
me. I made him laugh and he made me smile. He was a stranger to
me. But I was not a stranger to him. We had met before. I had no
memory of our meeting but he remembered everything. We were
school mates.

"I wanted to talk to you
whenever I see you in school," he said.

"You were handsome…You were
gorgeous….You were so beautiful. But I was afraid to do so. I was
so afraid that you would snub me. You looked snobbish. You were a
loner."

I had to become a snobbish.
I had to become a loner. I didn't have a choice. My school mates
were always teasing me because I was effeminate. I kept my
distance from everyone. I avoided crowd. I was tired of people
laughing at me. School was not a place where I went to make
friends.

*****

There was a change in our
political climate. We had a different party ruling our
government. We had a different prime minister.

"Before the election, I
promised you that there will be change," says the new prime
minister in his first fiery speech after winning the election.

"I intend to keep my word.
Nothing will remain the same. You will see a difference. Change
is here."

Like the country, there was
a change in our relationship. The new prime minister wanted him
back in the cabinet as his deputy prime minister. The new prime
minister was a strategist. Hiring the sacked minister from the
previous prime minister was a great way for the new prime
minister to gain more popularity and admiration.

He could no longer stay
with me. He did not want people to speculating about our
relationship.

"I will not disappear like
the last time," he assured me.

"I will call you. I want
you in my life. No one will want you the way I want
you."

I trusted him completely.
But I should have known politicians are fond of breaking their
promises. His ambitious wife returned to his side and I have
become a forgotten character in his life.

*****

Eight years later, his
political career ended, abruptly. His wife, a business woman, had
given bribes to get some government contract. He had no choice
but forced to resign. He was furious with his wife. His dream to
be the prime minister of the country was shattered. And he could
not forgive his wife. He ended his marriage.

When I first read his
tragic news, I was jumping with joy. Whenever he is in trouble,
the first person he looked for is me. I waited for him. I wanted
to see him. I wanted him inside me. I wanted us to be lovers,
again. But there was no knock on my door.

What stopped him from
knocking my door? I wondered. Then I caught a glimpse of myself
in the mirror and I wondered no more. I was no longer handsome. I
was no longer gorgeous. I was no longer
beautiful.

The End

P.S. I have just
recently released a collection of my short stories in book
titled Doubt. Wet is one of the stories featured in this book.
if you are interested to get Doubt please log to Doubt
link